


Foray

by quietcactus



Series: Lodestone [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23181373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietcactus/pseuds/quietcactus
Summary: “What do you consider as dating?” Tsukishima blurted, then let himself collapse on pillowed arms. It was like ripping off a band-aid—sharply painful but a little relieving.“Oh,” Yamaguchi replied. He didn’t want to know what kind of face he was making, whether Yamaguchi was pitying him. “Please don’t hit me, but aren’t the two of you already dating?”Or, a coda about dating and using your words.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Series: Lodestone [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655563
Comments: 52
Kudos: 388





	Foray

The air tasted sweetest at dawn, as if the world tilted on a different axis and softened. Heaving breaths burned in his lungs, powering long legs heated from strain. Tsukishima once resented this feeling of fatigue. It was a necessary evil to continue playing, but he certainly didn’t enjoy it. Or at least, once upon a time, he didn’t. 

Rhythmic pounding of feet accompanied his own. Out of the corner of his eye, Tsukishima could see Kageyama’s form in a steady lope. Dark hair ruffled in the wind, some of which stuck to sweat on his brow. His face was flushed from exertion. He looked as calm as Tsukishima ever saw him. Kageyama was a physical person who thrived when his body was under stress. Tsukishima had heard of a “runner’s high,” when the body fell into such a state that it brought a productive peace which allowed the mind to sharpen focus. He could see Kageyama experiencing such a thing. It smoothed any frown from his features. 

Tsukishima still disliked running. 

That said, he was coming to appreciate it in ways he hadn’t anticipated, the more personal aspects of things. He used to drag behind Kageyama, breathless in the worst ways and ashamed of his very obvious shortcomings. Now, they strode side by side. Tsukishima was aware that this wasn’t Kageyama at his peak, that Kageyama could kick into a sprint that even his long legs couldn’t catch. He hadn’t previously given it much thought, but he also couldn’t say he much minded.

Tsukishima was, very slowly but also surely, learning that not having everything wasn’t the same as having nothing. 

If he were more poetically inclined, he could put voice to whispered thoughts, could allow himself to cradle whatever fragile thing he was building with Kageyama. He felt like this wasn’t something he should want this way. Not because of who or what Kageyama was, but rather because of who _he_ thought himself to be. Somehow he felt too _delicate._ Sometimes his thoughts were harshest at night as he lay in bed on the cusp of slumber. When it was dark and his eyes were closed, all he could do was sift through memories of the day, fabricating conversations that may never happen but seemed so very real in the moment. He wanted to be mature and aloof and a little bit untouchable. But Kageyama couldn’t stop _touching him,_ he would live and breathe in his space until he had no choice but to fall into him as well. It was headying and terrifying. 

This was why he didn’t like running; it gave his mind too much free reign to canter away and spin these reflections instead. 

He turned his attention outward. He focused on the way his shorts brushed his thighs, the jolt in his knees from hard ground, how the tips of his fingers were just shy of too cold. He allowed himself to catch glimpses of Kageyama from his periphery, though they were slightly blurred where his lenses didn’t reach. He wanted to take Kageyama’s wrist and feel it warm and damp from sweat, run his thumb over bone. 

His foot caught in a divot and he stumbled for a few steps before recovering. 

Kageyama’s gait stuttered to keep abreast of him but he moved back into motion so seamlessly, Tsukishima begrudgingly allowed himself to be impressed. He heard a soft laugh from Kageyama, presumably to tease him. For a while Tsukishima couldn’t tell when Kageyama was actually laughing because it was less the braying sort of thing he’d hear from Tanaka and more of a huff of air that left his lungs without permission. It was a subtle little thing and Tsukishima refused to let himself be charmed by it. 

“Shut up,” Tsukishima grumbled with zero bite. 

“Make me,” Kageyama challenged, his cadence quickening and he wanted to wipe that grin off his face and _that motherfucker—_

When once that command would have made him falter, he now kicked his own gait up a notch because a having few inches on Kageyama wasn’t a lot, but whatever he had to his advantage he’d use. It was unrelated that whenever Tsukishima gave in to Kageyama like this, he’d see blue eyes glint with such razor-edged competitiveness his body felt overheated. 

Tsukishima directed his gaze toward the rising sun and used it as a goal, allowed himself to focus only on catching it and not the boy at his side. It was just a flash, but for a moment Tsukishima felt _happy._

“Can I ask a question?” It took Tsukishima a beat to register Kageyama’s voice. He barely sounded out of breath. 

“If you insist,” Tsukishima allowed, truly feeling content with them not speaking to each other. 

“We do stuff together all the time.” 

Tsukishima cast him a glance before squinting back against the sun. “That’s not a question.” 

Kageyama lapsed back into silence. Tsukishima debated prompting him but held off long enough that it now felt awkward to interrupt whatever he was thinking about. He rubbed his fingers against his palms to heat them with friction, but it was a lost cause.

“We spend a lot of time together, just the two of us,” Kageyama clarified.

“Still not a question,” Tsukishima pointed out. “You going somewhere with this?” 

Kageyama didn’t reply. Maybe he wasn’t going anywhere. Tsukishima tried not to let unease settle in his chest. Kageyama usually only got like this when working through the mechanics of something a bit complicated and Tsukishima was wary of complicated feelings. Tsukishima felt his ear itch where one of the stems of his glasses dug in, but he let it sit, let himself focus on the discomfort because that was more tangible than whatever was brewing here. 

“Are we dating?” Kageyama asked. 

Tsukishima felt his stomach trip over itself. Every time he felt they started to find some equilibrium, they came across something new. He turned his head enough to look at Kageyama, but he pointedly didn’t return his gaze. Tsukishima couldn’t respond right away. If he could give Kageyama the grace to process in silence, then he felt justified in taking the same time for himself. They jogged a whole block until he gathered himself enough. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, having a hard time plainly stating either way. “What constitutes as dating?” 

“I need to stop telling people you’re the smartest person I know if you’re gonna be this way,” Kageyama said. Tsukishima clicked his tongue in annoyance. He doubted Kageyama actually told people that anyway.

“Be what way?” Tsukishima snipped. He was too proud to admit he was being obtuse on purpose. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping his breaths measured. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth.

“Do you think we’re dating?” Kageyama tried again, ignoring him. 

“We don’t go on dates,” Tsukishima said. It was just a fact. When he thought of what was typically considered a “date,” it wasn’t what he and Kageyama did—he didn’t think so, anyway. They practiced together, studied together. Spent some quiet moments together when there was a lull in the aforementioned. But they weren’t doing anything for the sole purpose of being in one another’s company. Dating was such a foreign concept. 

Kageyama breathed sharply through his nose, shooting him a look Tsukishima couldn’t decipher. His jaw was clenched. “Yeah, ok.” 

_Say something._

His gut twisted, he wanted to be honest, to say he didn’t know if they were dating because he didn’t know what dating looked like. He didn’t know if they were dating but maybe he’d like to see if they could. Their steps were too loud. He felt his heart thud in his chest, but it ached. The thought of those words tumbling past his lips was also equally horrendous. _He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it—_

“Do you—” Tsukishima started, faltered. “Is that a thing you want?” 

“I don’t care,” Kageyama said, terse and short and stabbing. _Oh, ok then._

“Got it,” he said.

He stared so hard at the sun his eyes hurt. He could tell himself that was the reason why his eyes burned. 

___

“You want to talk about it?” 

Tsukishima looked up at Yamaguchi, eyeing him over the top of his glasses. “Talk about what?” 

They were in Yamaguchi’s bedroom working on a class assignment, the floor strewn with loose paper and a couple of calculators. Tsukishima placed a finger in his book to hold the page he was on. Yamaguchi was studiously scribbling some equation down while propped against his desk; he could hear the faint squeak of mechanical pencil against paper. Tsukishima was laying down on his stomach, reading through a sample question in their book. 

“You’ve been staring at the same page for 10 minutes now.” 

Tsukishima deliberately flipped the page, picking up a pencil as if to write something down. “Maybe I’m just really concentrating on this problem.” 

“And maybe you have something on your mind you can only share with your best friend,” Yamaguchi replied, eyes on the paper in front of him. Tsukishima knew Yamaguchi did this on purpose sometimes, knew that he preferred not to be put on the spot even when it was just the two of them. He let his pencil drop back to the floor, frustrated with himself. 

Tsukishima didn’t think he was being transparent, but Yamaguchi saw him in the way only best friends could. Well, that, and also his emotional intelligence was off the charts. People underestimated the quiet ones. Tsukishima and Kageyama weren’t much in the way of talkers, but they gave off enough of a bristly attitude that peopled tended to assume they were brusque or aloof, maybe a little serrated around the edges. But for gentler people like Yamaguchi, people wanted to take advantage of him, assume that his soft-spoken nature leant itself to inherent weakness. Only people who had never spoken to Yamaguchi thought that to be the case. 

Yamaguchi was squeamish and sometimes a worrier, but those traits belied a steel core. When Yamaguchi yelled at him, he knew it was serious because he so seldom did it. When he called him on his bullshit, he had to take it to heart because it must be true. So when Yamaguchi intimated Tsukishima had a troubled mind and was willing to wait him out, Tsukishima knew it was an endeavor he always lost. He wasn’t inclined to say it aloud, but he trusted Yamaguchi more than anyone he knew, even more than his brother. When he brought up something to discuss, it was worth listening to. 

“It’s nothing,” Tsukishima said, but even he knew that was an admission in itself. 

“Okay,” Yamaguchi replied. Tsukishima shook his head and tried to focus on the reading in front of him. Yamaguchi’s pencil continued to make a faint _scritch scritch._

Yamaguchi sighed, then put his notebook down. He stretched out a leg to nudge Tsukishima’s book away from him with his socked foot. Tsukishima let his pencil slip from his fingers and twisted on his side, propping his head on one hand. 

“Seriously?” Tsukishima asked. 

Yamaguchi finally looked up, scrunching his freckled nose. “The sooner you give up, the sooner you can actually get back to work.” 

“What if I told you there was nothing to discuss?” Tsukishima asked, pushing his leg away at the ankle. 

“What if I told you I’m not going to judge you?” 

That gave Tsukishima pause. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Maybe not,” Yamaguchi allowed, “But do you really think I can’t see what’s going on here?” 

Tsukishima stared at him, too embarrassed to keep denying and even more so to admit he was being obvious about anything. “And what do you think is going on?” He was actually curious to know. 

“You and Kageyama don’t seem to talk much anymore. You won’t even look at him. Did he do something wrong? Do I need to beat him up for you?” Bless Yamaguchi for immediately assuming it wasn’t his fault. Anyone who would laugh at the notion of Yamaguchi fighting for anything didn’t know him _at all._ Tsukishima bit his lip but said nothing. 

“Oh,” Yamaguchi said, voice quieter, “You did something wrong.” It wasn’t a question. 

Tsukishima took his glasses off, let them rest on top of his textbook. Yamaguchi was slightly blurred now, which made it somewhat easier to be honest when he couldn’t as easily decipher his expression. “I might have, I think. But—” _He hurt me, too, I think._

“But?” 

Tsukishima mulled it over. Part of him wanted to quash the conversation entirely, clam up and put Yamaguchi off and he absolutely knew Yamaguchi would let him. He knew he could bide his time. But his stomach clenched when he thought on how things felt so thick and awkward with Kageyama as of late and that was even more untenable. 

“What do you consider as dating?” Tsukishima blurted, then let himself collapse on pillowed arms. It was like ripping off a band-aid—sharply painful but a little relieving. 

_“Oh,”_ Yamaguchi replied. He didn’t want to know what kind of face he was making, whether Yamaguchi was pitying him. “Please don’t hit me, but aren’t the two of you already dating?” 

Tsukishima’s eyes shot open, his head jerking up to look at Yamaguchi. _Fuck it,_ he thought, and put his glasses back on. He needed to read his face for this. 

“No? I mean, no.” He sighed loudly through his nose. “I don’t think he wants that.” And wasn’t that hard to admit because _why did the thought of that hurt so much?_

“What makes you say that?” 

Tsukishima allowed a pained nose to slip out the back of his throat. “I asked if he wanted to and he said no.” 

_“Really.”_ Yamaguchi sounded shocked. 

“What does _that_ mean?” Tsukishima replied, feeling a little defensive. _Was the thought of him dating that far-fetched?_

“I just find that hard to believe, is all,” Yamaguchi said incredulously. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?” 

Tsukishima blushed. “I guess? But he looks at everyone. I don’t know what you mean.” 

Yamaguchi gave a long-suffering sigh. “Why yes, as a human, Kageyama looks at everyone. But he _watches you._ Sometimes he’s a little too intense about it, which I think is just his default setting about anything, but the only other times I’ve seen him look so happy is when he’s playing a good match or that time we had barbeque during training camp.” 

“He looks at me as fondly as a piece of grilled meat,” Tsukishima said flatly. 

“We are all made of meat, Tsukishima,” Yamaguchi intoned sagely, “But you’re missing my point. He smiles around you, he looks _fondly_ at you, and I think I even heard him laugh once but I could be mistaken.”

“So what are you saying?” Tsukishima murmured, feeling squirmy from stupid butterflies that he did not give permission to land. 

“Tsukishima, he _likes_ you, like he wants to date you and put his mouth on your mouth.” 

_“Gross,”_ Tsukishima hissed, his face flaring with heat. He threw his pencil at him for good measure.

“And you’re going to be all surly about it and I won’t make you say it out loud because I love you, but I know you like him, too. I honestly think that if you asked him out properly, whatever that means to you, he would say yes.” 

He rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I asked and he said he didn’t care.” 

“You asked him out and he said no? Give me a play-by-play here.” 

He mulled it over, trying to remember how he put it. “He asked if we were dating. I think I said we didn’t do that and asked if he wanted to. And he said he didn’t care.” 

Tsukishima heard Yamaguchi sigh, then his body shifting on the floor to sit closer to him. Yamaguchi gently patted his head. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say I think he might have felt you rejected him first.” 

He tilted his head back to look at Yamaguchi, who just blinked at him. “But I didn’t say no.” 

He could see Yamaguchi shrug. “Maybe not. Look, what do I know, I’m not exactly beating off women with a stick here. It sounds like, maybe, you both had a messy non-conversation about it?” Yamaguchi lightly pulled at his hair in emphasis. “Seriously. Ask him out for real.” 

“Let’s pretend that somehow he said yes,” Tsukishima allowed, “Then what? I don’t know what dating even looks like.”

“I mean, I don’t really know, either. I guess sometimes people just want to know that they’re yours and you’re theirs.” 

___

_What a slow fucking death this was._

The four of them were traipsing along the dark path away from practice. It started as it normally did, Hinata bounding away in the lead with Kageyama in tow whist Yamaguchi and Tsukishima kept a more sedate pace behind. However, once both pairs learned there was someone new who actually responded to them—and not just a tall, captive audience—their pairs intermingled more. Well, to an extent. Tsukishima could count on one hand the number of times he and Hinata were stuck together willingly. 

Yamaguchi was now in vanguard with Hinata and his bike, both gesticulating wildly with hands and bright grins on their faces. Not long ago, Tsukishima would quietly relish a peaceful moment alone with Kageyama, both occasionally side-eying each other in commiseration of their best friends’ enthusiasm. In that moment, however, Tsukishima couldn’t for the life of him remember what that soft contentment felt like. 

He and Kageyama were in an odd détente these days where neither of them was cutting at each other but any vestiges of warmth seemed to fizzle. It was a terrible feeling to pinpoint so clearly a moment when things went wrong and yet still feeling unable to fix it. Yamaguchi had made it sound so easy, as if conversations of dating— _my god, dating_ —would just tumble from his lips and Kageyama would willingly catch them. In a very quiet part of his mind, Tsukishima worried that it _was_ that easy and that there must be something wrong with him if it was stymying him so. The longer he waited to say something, the harder he twisted his hands in front of him, focusing on the grinding pain to center himself. 

He said nothing. Kageyama said nothing. Yamaguchi and Hinata’s voices buzzed in his ears. Tsukishima could see the fork in the road coming up soon, the one where he and Kageyama would part ways and for some reason this _had_ to be the moment to say something because if not then, when?

_Never. Do it never._

With the unerring ability to read his mind, Yamaguchi swiveled his head just enough to catch his eye. Without pausing in his story, he gave Tsukishima a subtle thumbs up. If he wasn’t mistaken, he would believe Yamaguchi lengthened his stride just a hair to further the distance between them. Hinata happily picked up his pace. Tsukishima very determinedly kept his own pace and almost hoped Kageyama would quicken to catch them, to leave him unequivocally behind so he could pettily justify to himself that _he_ wasn’t the one to leave first. 

But Kageyama kept even with him, letting the others drift far enough away to make it evident it was just the two of them. The silence felt so dense he almost couldn’t breathe, could feel the darkness off the beaten path close in and press against his sides, curling at his ankles as if to draw him away. It wasn’t secretive or intimate, it was disquieting and he felt exposed.

But Kageyama was still there. He avoided any eye contact, but he didn’t leave him behind. 

“What are you doing Sunday afternoon?” 

Kageyama didn’t respond and for a dizzying moment Tsukishima feared the worst, that he wouldn’t even deign him with some eloquent riposte of _fuck off_. He waited a beat, two beats, ready to literally leap forward and brush his way past Yamaguchi to let the darkness claim him. 

Kageyama suddenly whipped his head over, dark eyes widened in surprise. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard him, like he didn’t think Tsukishima would address him directly. 

“What?” 

Tsukishima sharply inhaled through his nose. “Sunday. You got plans?” 

Kageyama gave him that intense stare and sometimes Tsukishima would find it strangely endearing, but right now it scared the shit out of him. Sometimes that look felt like staring down a cat, where he couldn’t be sure if it was feeling intrigued or plotting his demise. At this point, if it were a quick death, he wouldn’t mind the latter.

Kageyama blinked. “Just the usual.” The usual being some variation of exercise, homework, and avoiding homework by rewatching professional volleyball matches. 

“Do you want to go out together?” Tsukishima asked in a rush, his heart hammering staccato until he could breathe again. The shadow at his ankles slowly unfurled. 

“Really?” Kageyama replied, head tilted slightly. He wasn’t sure if he was confused or suspicious. 

Tsukishima felt his cheeks burn, a little relieved and a lot uncomfortable. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. We could meet at the café by my house? Around 12?” That seemed like a normal time to meet up with someone. 

Kageyama continued to watch him to the point that Tsukishima felt his palms get sweaty. He wasn’t sure if he could stand it if Kageyama declined. Had their relationship regressed to such a point that even spending time together was unallowable?

But Kageyama gave him a short nod and said, “Yeah, okay.” Tsukishima waited to see if he’d follow up, but they went back to silence. He’d hoped he would feel more relieved or pleased, but he’d take what he could get. 

As they neared the fork in the path, Hinata wheeled his bike along with Yamaguchi as the three of them would split off from Kageyama. Tsukishima started to angle his body away until he felt Kageyama catch the sleeve of his jacket, fingers lightly clutching. Kageyama’s gaze stayed on the ground; his fingers tightened. “I’m going to text you an article on the latest Japan-Brazil game. There’s an interesting discussion on how the Brazilians use read-blocking. You should read it.” He continued to keep his eyes downcast, but Tsukishima could see the olive branch for what it was. He bit his lip, mindful of looking too pleased in front of Hinata and Yamaguchi. 

“Yeah, alright. I’ll let you know.” 

“Kageyama!” Hinata chirped, startling the three of them. “Send it to me, too!” 

“No,” Kageyama replied, going back to his usual frown, “Look it up yourself.” 

_“Rude!”_ Hinata snapped, but he didn’t actually look upset. They all knew this was how their friendship worked. “Send it to me anyway. I’m gonna expect to see it by the time I get home.” 

“Well, if you’re sending out articles,” Yamaguchi interjected, smiling, “Might as well send it to me, too.” 

“Can’t you all do your own research?” Kageyama grumbled, but he didn’t say no, so he knew all their phones would eventually ping at the same time tonight. “Whatever, I’m going home, you may or may not get a text from me later.” They were going to get a text later. 

Tsukishima was now level with Yamaguchi, but he turned to give Kageyama a smirk. This was familiar ground he knew how to work with. “But didn’t you offer to send it to me first?” 

Kageyama huffed, looking put out, but when he caught Tsukishima’s eye, he flashed him a small, private smile that made Tsukishima blush. “Yeah, you’ll get it from me.” Tsukishima heard Yamaguchi squeak next to him. 

“Ok, now we’re going,” Yamaguchi said, his voice a little high-pitched, “Good night, Kageyama.” 

“Night,” Kageyama offered, then finally moved down his own path. 

Four became three and the rest of them trudged along their own way. Yamaguchi leaned over until their arms brushed.

“I’m proud of you,” Yamaguchi whispered, giving him another surreptitious thumbs up. Tsukishima rolled his eyes but felt inordinately pleased. 

“Proud of what?” Hinata asked, bending past Yamaguchi to look at him.

“Proud of the fact that I’ve withstood your company for this long,” Tsukishima said with a raised eyebrow.

Hinata gasped in offense but Tsukishima couldn’t be bothered. He had bigger things to worry about, like _holy shit, I asked out a boy and he said yes._

___

Tsukishima was drumming his fingers on the table, refusing to keep picking up and putting down his tea without drinking it. 

It was a bright, overcast day, the kind that was deceptively cloudy but still light enough to need sunglasses. Tsukishima was torn between angling his body away from the window to stop squinting and turning his body toward the street to see if Kageyama was coming. He didn’t know which was the lesser evil. He decided to fidget with his phone, one hand occupied with scrolling through social media while the other cradled a hot mug. It was probably for the best he found himself engrossed because it wasn’t until the bells above the door jingled that he looked up to see Kageyama coming toward him. 

Tsukishima was suddenly very much aware of how differently they were dressed. He had texted Yamaguchi last night in a pique of panic, wanting to look casual enough to not stand out but just nice enough to show he was putting in an effort. For better and for worse, Tsukishima had little variation in his wardrobe, so he settled on a pair of darker jeans and a sweater with the sleeves rolled up. Kageyama, alternatively, came wearing joggers and a t-shirt while carrying his book bag. 

“Hey,” Kageyama said, sliding into his usual spot. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.” 

“Nope, you’re good,” Tsukishima said, deliberately putting his phone down. “Can I…get you anything?”

Kageyama looked confused. “Get me what?”

“Like, something to drink,” Tsukishima offered, feeling flat-footed. “Or something to eat?” He was already halfway out the booth before Kageyama interrupted him. 

“No. I mean, thanks, but I can get it myself.” Kageyama blindly dug around in his bag to find his wallet. 

“It’s my treat,” Tsukishima said quickly, pulse pounding. If he’d only ever have one opportunity in his life to be smooth, now wasn’t it. His body was still awkwardly perched half in and half out of the booth. “You usually get hot chocolate, right?” They both knew this was his regular order, but it somehow felt rude to not confirm. 

“Sit down, I’ve got it,” Kageyama countered, already out of the booth before Tsukishima could commit. He found himself slowly lowering himself back down onto his seat. “Why would you pay for me?” 

Tsukishima wasn’t sure how to explain it. “Because I’m offering?” 

Kageyama eyeballed him. “You’re being weird, stop it.” His back was already to Tsukishima before he could come up with a response. 

He stared blankly at his tea and its whorls of steam. He picked up his phone, checked the time, then set it back down and promptly forgot the time. 

Kageyama eventually came back, delicately holding his own mug with long fingers. _He has nice hands,_ he thought, tan and finely-boned against white ceramic. Once settled, Kageyama turned his full attention on him, gaze direct. Tsukishima waited with bated breath. 

“Thanks for asking me out,” Kageyama said quietly, one finger idly tapping the mug. “I wasn’t sure when this would happen.” 

“Oh, well, it’s probably overdue, isn’t it?” Tsukishima said, trying to avoid taking too deep a breath. Kageyama’s glance darted down to the table then back up to his face. 

“I’ve missed this,” Kageyama said softly. Tsukishima felt his heart give a hard thump. 

“Me too,” he replied, letting the corner of his mouth quirk up. He forgot why he was so nervous in the first place. 

Kageyama gave him an affirming nod. He moved to put his wallet back in his bag but then started rifling through it as if to find something else. For a jolting moment, Tsukishima wondered if he brought him something. Kageyama pulled out a textbook and pencil case, lightly humming to himself. Tsukishima leant back in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

Kageyama help up a notebook. “What does it look like? Where’s your stuff?”

_Oh. Oh my fucking god._

With horrifying clarity, he realized he was not, in fact, on a date. That Kageyama had taken his earlier request as time to do homework, as they often did in this cafe, and not just enjoy one another’s company for the sake of it. He supposed it was his mistake to pick a place so often associated with something else they did together. A part of him shriveled up and died in mortification. 

“I didn’t bring anything,” Tsukishima said faintly, trying to reconcile that they had arrived at two very different places. He figured it was too late to just get up and leave. He couldn’t decide if he should laugh or cry. Probably both. 

Kageyama paused, pencil now in hand. “I don’t remember asking for help studying, but while you’re here, you might as well look over this math assignment.” He flipped to a page in his notebook and held it out obligingly. 

Tsukishima took the notebook from him on autopilot, trying to slot together fractured thoughts before he completely fell apart. He debated whether to call out his original intention for them meeting up but feared that would worsen everything. He was already embarrassed, so there was no point in Kageyama potentially feeling the same. 

He sighed, despondent. “Alright, what are we looking at.” 

Having lost the will to live, Tsukishima worked with Kageyama on math, gently making corrections and smiling when he gave correct answers. Kageyama looked so quietly pleased that Tsukishima didn’t have the heart to change anything. Part of him was so painfully grateful they were getting back to where they were that he could only be so bothered that it was never a date in the first place. He would take this loss. 

They were 90 minutes deep into studying when Tsukishima felt his neck start to crick. He thought it could be a good time to wrap things up when—

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said, surprising himself. 

Kageyama’s pencil stopped but he didn’t look up. “I’m on a roll, don’t crap out on me now.” 

“I need to move my legs, we can finish this later.” Tsukishima was already levering himself up and out, using his own momentum to nudge Kageyama. Maybe there was something he could salvage here. 

Kageyama huffed but he started packing his things. Tsukishima debated next steps, wondering if just walking around could constitute a date. If two people were spending time enjoying each other’s company, that counted, right? 

As they made their way outside, Tsukishima nodded his head toward the path he wanted to take. He was wracking his brain for something to say, anything at this point, but indecision stalled his tongue. They walked in silence. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if Kageyama felt as uncomfortable as he did. It was often hard to read his face. 

He saw a bench near a park and thought that was as good an opportunity as any. He wordlessly steered Kageyama toward the bench and sat down, waiting for Kageyama to comply. He did so willingly, but Kageyama’s brow tightened. It was still silent. Tsukishima felt himself wilt with despair. He immediately regretted his decision to prolong this outing. He should have cut his losses when he could. 

Kageyama was intently staring in the distance and _my god, he must be so bored is he still here out of pity—_ but then he leant forward, elbows on his knees, eyes unmoving. Tsukishima peered at him in concern, glancing at where Kageyama’s gaze went, then back to him. He looked unusually focused for someone sitting in a park; he was going to scare away children if he kept it up. Kageyama’s head jerked slightly to the right and Tsukishima finally caught what he was looking at: a cat. On a fence. Sun baking. 

_Did this cat wrong him in a previous life?_ He had no idea what it had done to garner such attention. He stared at the cat, too, confused. Was it doing something weird? It just appeared to be living its life but Kageyama was enraptured as if it held answers to the universe’s mysteries. He was putting too much thought into this. 

“Do you want to say hi to that cat?” Tsukishima offered, then clicked his tongue. He sounded like a child. 

“Yup,” Kageyama immediately replied and got up to move in its direction. Baffled, Tsukishima followed suit. As they neared the cat, Kageyama halted several feet away as if afraid to move closer. The cat eyed them, clearly uncaring, then balled itself into a loaf. Kageyama made a faint sound. 

“You going to pet it or what?” He was having a hard time combining a normally brooding Kageyama with this boy who repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands as if containing excitement. 

Kageyama sighed deeply. “I can’t.” 

Tsukishima cocked an eyebrow. “Can’t or won’t? You allergic or something?” 

Kageyama sighed again, then muttered something under his breath. Tsukishima couldn’t catch it. 

“What?” 

“Cats don’t like me,” Kageyama murmured and it was said with such defeat, Tsukishima’s cold, dead heart panged. 

“Cats generally don’t like anyone,” he said. He personally held no great love for them, but he could see why they appealed to others. 

“No, but—” Kageyama started, then fell quiet. _Ridiculous._

Tsukishima moved forward and saw Kageyama make an aborted attempt to catch his elbow. He looked down at the cat over the top of his glasses, unimpressed. Green eyes stared back, unimpressed. Without overthinking it, he swept the cat into his arms and turned to face Kageyama. Kageyama’s dark eyes were wide and sweet and _I wish he looked like this more often._

“Go for it,” Tsukishima said, idly scratching it under its chin. He felt a purr vibrate against his forearm. 

Kageyama tentatively reached his hand out, but the cat squirmed away, twisting in Tsukishima’s arms. He backed off and the cat settled. He stepped closer to Kageyama and felt the cat shift again. It was like trying to put the same end of two magnets together and watching them swerve apart. The salty part of Tsukishima was thrilled. 

“What the hell is happening?” Tsukishima laughed. “It’s like it can tell you want it too much.” 

“I know,” Kageyama said, morosely. 

“Maybe you’re coming on too strong, it can feel your desperation.” But Kageyama continued to look so distressed that he felt the humor drain from him. “You’re really into cats, aren’t you.” 

“Yeah, they’re the best.” Kageyama was painfully earnest. 

_He has absolutely no embarrassment about how much he likes this dumb cat._

Tsukishima generally loathed to admit how much he liked anything in his life. As a kid, he once made the mistake of waxing rhapsodic about a book on dinosaurs his brother gave him and was so mercilessly teased by a classmate he never spoke of it again. Sure, he would admit a passing interest in dinosaurs later on—he could argue it was just useless trivia if anyone probed—but he was careful to not show too much excitement. People tended to use that kind of information against you. It was frankly no one else’s business anyway, he told himself. He liked what he liked and didn’t care if others knew it. 

But here was Kageyama, so utterly unrepentant in his interest. Tsukishima felt something catch in his stomach, something a little wistful. 

“Don’t touch the cat,” Tsukishima warned, and before Kageyama could look too wounded, he continued, “Just, put your hand on my arm. Try to pretend you don’t give a shit.” 

“Maybe I don’t give a shit,” Kageyama argued petulantly, but he did as he said. Very slowly, Kageyama reached out to lightly grasp Tsukishima’s elbow, fingers warm. The cat’s eyes narrowed but otherwise didn’t move. Tsukishima tried to not be hyperaware of Kageyama touching him. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tsukishima muttered to himself. “Okay, just move slowly. Aim for petting its back.” And because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Stay calm, it can smell your fear.” 

Kageyama’s hard froze, then squeezed his forearm in admonishment. His hand slowly traced down his arm and Tsukishima quickly realized his mistake. He could feel the calloused pads of Kageyama fingers, pinpricks alight with heat, and he shivered despite himself. The tips of his ears burned. 

Slowly, as if attempting to defuse a bomb, Kageyama gently ran his fingers through the cat’s fur and some deity must have been listening because the cat finally allowed it and resumed purring. Kageyama’s eyes darted up to his and he looked so delighted, Tsukishima knew he was a goner. He didn’t know what he was doing half the time, but he knew that there was no other place he’d rather be in that very moment. 

_I really like him._

But as is the way of cats, it suddenly decided it was done with human interaction and squirmed hard enough Tsukishima was forced to let it go. Without looking back, it sauntered away, presumably to go off and terrorize some other poor suspect. Kageyama watched it leave, a small smile on his lips. 

“Thank you,” Kageyama said quietly. 

Tsukishima coughed, trying to clear his throat. “You’re welcome, I guess.” 

The sun was finally breaking through the clouds and it was such a perfect moment that Tsukishima whimsically wondered if he could distill this feeling in a bottle and tuck it away. He wanted to—

“So are we gonna get back to studying or are we just done for the day?” 

His contentment faded. For a few blissful moments, he forgot what they’d been doing. 

“We’re done here,” Tsukishima grunted, then felt a wash of regret with his tone. “Sorry,” he amended. It wasn’t Kageyama’s fault he felt like this.

“What is going on with you?” Kageyama asked, quintessential frown back in place. “You’re being super weird today.” 

“It’s—never mind.” Tsukishima didn’t have the heart for it. “We’ll pick up studying later, ok?” 

“I’m confused,” Kageyama admitted, voice gruff, “You say you want to hang out but don’t have anything with you. We go on a walk and you get snippy with me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you did nothing wrong, really. I’m being stupid. I’m just going to head home.” 

Kageyama grabbed his wrist but it lacked the soft hold from earlier. It was a little too tight. 

“Don’t do this,” Kageyama groused. “You saying you’re ‘being stupid’ is some bizarre code for ‘something’s fucked up.’ I’m not letting go until you say what’s on your mind and you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“I fucked this up!” Tsukishima snapped, starting to feel beyond humiliated. “I had a plan and I did it wrong and I’m just angry with myself.” 

“What plan? What are you talking about?” 

“I asked you out, but I must have done it wrong and I’m just being stupid,” Tsukishima repeated. He wrapped his other arm around his stomach to keep his shame from spilling out. 

“I don’t know how you could’ve done it wrong,” Kageyama said, bewildered. “You ask me to hang out all the time.” 

“This time was supposed to be different.” 

“Different how?”

 _“It was supposed to be a date!”_ He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

“That—no, it wasn’t.” 

Tsukishima tried wrenching his wrist from his grasp but Kageyama held tight. 

“Please let me go.” 

“How could you think this was a date.” Kageyama sounded disbelieving. He looked a little like someone told him he was a terrible setter.

“It was a mistake,” Tsukishima said with finality. “Just let me go home.” 

“This couldn’t have been a date.” 

“Oh my god, _let it go.”_

“You didn’t ask me on a date.” Kageyama’s eyes were wide, almost panicked.

“The fuck?” Tsukishima was reeling. “Did I have to literally say ‘Will you go on a date with me?’” 

“Yes?” 

That stopped him. “Are you serious right now?” 

Kageyama nodded, looking about as uncomfortable as he felt. “Aren’t you supposed to—you were really asking me out. On a date. Like, romantically. I thought you didn’t want that.” 

“I just meant that we _hadn’t,_ not that we _shouldn’t.”_ Tsukishima was exhausted. “I wanted to go out with you. _Want_ to go out with you. On a date. Romantically. Because I like you. Is that ok?” 

“Yeah.” Kageyama bit his lip. 

“Okay, next time, you’ll know for sure,” Tsukishima said, feeling bone-weary. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for the next ten years. He didn’t know how people did this on a regular basis. 

“There’ll be a next time?” Kageyama asked so softly he almost didn’t hear him. 

“Do you want there to be a next time?” 

“Yes.” 

___

They were eating lunch outside, even though the earth was hard and rain was pending. It was the sort of day where school dragged to such a degree that even sitting in the damp was better than breathing stale air without reprieve. Tsukishima found it unpleasant, but the thought of remaining alone inside whilst others spent time together was worse. He absently blew on chilled fingers. 

“I think your logic is skewed here,” Yamaguchi said to Hinata, taking a bit of rice.

Hinata huffed, clicking chopsticks to emphasize his point. “Ok, but is it? ‘Cause according to their coach, he found that blocking closer to the line was more effective for those kinds of shots.” 

Yamaguchi and Hinata were quarreling about one of the latest articles Kageyama had texted the day prior. He couldn’t have imagined it, but somehow they’d fallen into the habit of Kageyama sending out his research. Mostly it was analytics of professional volleyball matches, but sometimes it was about nutrition or kinesthetics. Kageyama never provided context or input into the texts themselves, but it was easy to read where his mind was based on content. Tsukishima thought that book clubs were for moms, but he’d unwittingly found himself in one regardless. He wasn’t mad about it. 

“I think they’re both wrong,” Kageyama said, leaning into his shoulder to keep his voice down. Tsukishima was acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body, elbow to shoulder. He told himself he pressed himself back into him because he was cold. 

“You could say as much,” Tsukishima replied, voice equally toned. 

Kageyama shook his head mutely. “No, this is more interesting.” 

“Why do you send this out if you don’t want to discuss it?” 

“Because I already know what my thoughts are on the matter,” he said. Kageyama looked so sure of himself that Tsukishima was both irritated and a little charmed by his confidence. 

He wasn’t so charmed that he didn’t roll his eyes, even if Kageyama couldn’t see him. “And it’s impossible that someone may be able to provide a new perspective.” 

Kageyama’s gaze swiveled to him, eyes impossibly dark this close. “But I know I’m right.” Tsukishima hoped he could explain his face was pinked from drizzly conditions and not his own observations. 

“Sometimes you’re insufferable,” Tsukishima pointed out, hoping he didn’t sound too unkind. 

But Kageyama put a hand on his knee, looking up under dark eyelashes. “Sometimes I think you like that I’m insufferable.” Tsukishima reared back, face aflame. He wondered if Kageyama knew what he sounded like until he heard the soft huff of breath from him that signaled a laugh. 

How they had gotten back to this place was beyond him. Their not-date hadn’t been that long ago, but their interactions since then were like night and day. He hadn’t realized how dreary his days were becoming until he met with Kageyama and wasn’t that a punch to the gut to know how much he looked forward to just _being_ with him. He liked the way Kageyama felt he could tease him, could look at him and somehow get a message across. He liked his breadth of shoulder and how even the faintest smile could light up his face. That sometimes that faintest smile was just for him. 

Tsukishima realized Kageyama’s hand was still on his knee. He thought about shifting, wondered if it was obvious to the others but had a startling moment of _fuck it, who cares._ He pointedly put his hand on top of Kageyama’s, tangling fingers and drawing the others’ attention. It wasn’t a subtle move. He didn’t want it to be. 

He made sure he had Kageyama’s gaze, which had widened upon joining their hands. “What are you doing Friday night?” 

“Uh, I don’t know, practice? Same as you?” Kageyama seemed perplexed, but Tsukishima could see Yamaguchi wriggling out of the corner of his eye. Hinata just watched, typically wide-eyed. Tsukishima took a deep breath, then a purposeful exhale. He knew Kageyama could feel his hand shaking, knew he was undeniably blushing. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me? You know, romantically.” Tsukishima allowed himself a rueful chuckle. Kageyama blinked at him, processing, until he allowed a sharp grin. 

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.” Kageyama raised his other hand and gods be good, Tsukishima gave him a high-five, unable to keep the smile off his own face. 

Tsukishima heard a plaintive _Tsukkiii_ from Yamaguchi but Hinata was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked over and saw Hinata with lips pursed, looking confused as he ever did. 

“Aren’t you guys, like, already dating? Was this not a thing?” 

“Thank you!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, hands raised in the air. 

___

Tsukishima was waiting at their fork in the road. He didn’t mean to get there early, but nerves have a funny way of distorting time. 

They agreed to meet at this waypoint because Tsukishima didn’t think to pick Kageyama up and Akiteru was at home so he absolutely refused when Kageyama blithely offered to grab him. To his consternation, he was self-conscious of his clothes because it was apparently unconscionable to wear the same sweater twice. 

_But you wore that on your first date!_ Yamaguchi lamented the night before. He didn’t think it really counted if Kageyama didn’t know he’d been on a date the whole time, but he knew better than to argue with Yamaguchi. So here he was, wearing one of the few other sweaters he owned that still fit because, according to his mother, he kept growing like a weed. He didn’t know much about clothes, only that his sweater was soft and his pants were dark. When he could start to see Kageyama ambling in his direction, he kept clenched hands in his jacket pockets. He tipped his face up to the streetlamp, schooling his face into nonchalance before it was too late, watching moths skitter about. The air was pleasantly cool against his flushed cheeks. 

“What’re you looking?” 

Tsukishima glanced down to see Kageyama standing nearby, scuffing his sneaker into the dirt. He realized it was the first time he could recall Kageyama wearing jeans, accentuating trim legs. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt, but it looked more for comfort than strictly for training. He was all long, dark lines in the dusky light and Tsukishima had the urge to push him further into the shadows and map his arms from shoulder to wrist. 

“The stars,” Tsukishima lied, unwilling to tell him he was just staring at a lamp. 

Kageyama gave a considering hum, then sidled up to his side. Tsukishima swayed into him, then away, afraid of being obvious. But that felt like a problem, too. 

_Afraid of being obvious? About what? That you like him? That he knows you like him?_

Tsukishima felt so ridiculous that he found himself laughing out loud, startling Kageyama. He brought a hand to his mouth to stifle it, unsure if he looked a little hysterical. It just dawned on him—who cared? He was always wondering what others thought, how they viewed the situation, how he was viewed within in it. If he felt something wasn’t working in his favor, he removed himself from it altogether. Let him be unapproachable, let him be just unknowable enough to keep people off-kilter. There were advantages in that approach. Disadvantages as well, true, but far greater protection overall. 

He thought about Kageyama and that cat, how he was so unabashedly excited. How he knew that cat would hate him—and how delicious was that—and he still put himself up for that rejection because the end result could be worth it. 

Kageyama was many things, some of them terribly frustrating, but he was also so earnest it could be overwhelming. Tsukishima could imagine it being crippling at times, living life with the conviction of someone who would land on his feet no matter the circumstance. Before, Tsukishima was quick-barbed about teasing Kageyama for his reputation because it was apparent how much it bothered him, that something he found value in was mercilessly ridiculed. It was that immutable conviction that had some people looking at Kageyama with disdain—the oft-taken route—or with pity, assuming he was too dense to appreciate the complexity of a situation. Sometimes it was a little of both, but mostly it was a total lack of guile. 

“What the hell?” Kageyama asked. 

Tsukishima truly had no way to explain himself. His immediate thought was to rebuff, per usual. Kageyama stared back, brow a little pinched but he knew he wasn’t annoyed. Just curious. Always watching. Tsukishima knew that Kageyama was rarely, if ever, _mean._ If he was honest with himself, he knew that every time he had been truly vulnerable with Kageyama, the other would take it in stride, not pocket it as a weapon to later unsheathe. He didn’t have solid evidence to suggest otherwise. 

_Other than spontaneously combusting, what was truly the worst that could happen?_

Tsukishima didn’t deign him with a verbal response, slipping a hand out of his pocket to take Kageyama’s into his own. 

“You’re confusing,” Kageyama muttered, but he easily flipped his hand to better zipper their fingers together, then lightly tugged him to start down the path. Kageyama seemed to have a particular direction in mind.

“Sometimes,” he agreed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze because he _wanted_ to. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll know when we get there.” 

“That’s a little more ominous than romantic,” Tsukishima chided, though he made no effort to pull him back. 

“Keepin’ you on your toes,” Kageyama stated flatly. 

Tsukishima gave a blustery sigh, but they both knew he wasn’t bothered. Sometimes Tsukishima just liked to make a show of annoyance to maintain an image. He supposed in retrospect it was a kindness in itself that Kageyama humored him most of the time. He still felt his pulse strumming in his wrist, in his hand, knowing that no matter how much contemplation that lamp witnessed, he was still nervous because _now_ it was apparently a real date. 

They walked in the kind of silence that spoke its own words. They were both introspective sorts, so there was peace in having the companionship of another and able to focus inward. Tsukishima could hear crickets in the thrush, the skid of rubber soles against the ground. The faintest breeze kissed his face and blew Kageyama’s soft hair past his ear. He had the urge to burrow his face between the hood of his sweatshirt and his neck, absorb the heat and fresh scent and salt and just feel safe. He almost didn’t want to make it wherever they were going because he couldn’t imagine how it would be more serene than this very moment. 

Tsukishima eyed Kageyama curiously, eyes drifting from one shop they passed to the next. He was trying to narrow down the possibilities of where they’d go, knowing their town was only so big and only so many places open at this hour. Eventually, Kageyama slowed and he found them standing outside a coffeeshop, one which was familiar but he tended to avoid because it could be crowded. He was a little surprised by the choice. Even through the windows he could tell that, while not bustling, there was certainly a notable number of people there. He looked askance but Kageyama carried on placidly. 

Kageyama opened the door front, paused, then stepped back to hold it for him. He squinted at him. Dropping his hand, Tsukishima moved past into the warm light, the coffeeshop laden with rich brews and some kind of baked goods he could already admit to wanting. A draft of air swooped as the door closed behind him and Kageyama pressed up against his back, one hand low on his hip. Tsukishima tensed despite himself. 

“More crowded than I thought it’d be,” Kageyama murmured, tipping up slightly to speak directly in his ear. “Find a spot and I’ll be right back.” He was already moving away before Tsukishima could respond. 

He looked about the store, gaze glazed as he was processing so much stimuli at once. His senses were warring between the ambiance of the room, available seating—there were only a few options—and the phantom touch of Kageyama against his side. He clicked his tongue at himself, a sound deafened against the clatter of noise around him, before weaving around people to take a small table at the back. It would be close quarters between two long-legged boys, but the other option was to stand and that sounded heinously awkward. He debated his options, then sat against the corner of the wall to better see Kageyama approach. It gave him an uninhibited view for observation. At a quick glance, he supposed Kageyama didn’t stand out too much. He was certainly taller than the average person in line, but his darker coloring blended easily enough. 

Tsukishima couldn’t keep his eyes off him. 

He found it hard not to stare as Kageyama soon after wound his way through people, effortlessly balancing two mugs and what looked to be some baked good and no matter how else the night went, at least he’d get that. He placed their items down, then stopped, looking back and forth between his chair and Tsukishima. He was aware of just how small the shared space was. 

“I can try to move,” Tsukishima offered, but his legs could only go so many places. 

“And where would you go?” Kageyama gave him a blank look, then sat down. Tsukishima gave a short laugh when they had to shuffle for position, ending up with one of Kageyama’s legs between his own and the other to the side closing Tsukishima in. The laugh died in his throat. He was thoroughly caged in and the focus of Kageyama’s scrutiny. 

Tsukishima picked up a mug of what turned out to be coffee—a darker roast, thank you, Kageyama—and turned to what appeared to be—

“Is this some kind of strawberry shortcake?” Tsukishima asked, reluctantly impressed. He poked at it with a fork, just this side of pleased. “Believe it or not, this was a good guess.” 

Kageyama’s eyes slid away, though there was only so much he could stare at the wall above Tsukishima’s shoulders. There was pink across the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I know.” 

“You know what, that it’s my favorite?” Tsukishima must not have heard him correctly. Kageyama continued to stare off, unwilling to catch his eye. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out when he could have mentioned this as his favorite dessert before, especially in front of Kageyama. It wasn’t something he openly talked about; only a few people knew him that well. “How did you know?”

“Sometimes I know things,” Kageyama replied, a little surly. 

Tsukishima blinked at him. “No, you don’t. Who have you been talking to—holy shit did you talk to Yamaguchi?” 

“No. Well. It’s working so far, isn’t it?” Kageyama eventually slid his eyes back over, face still pinked but otherwise impassive. Now that Kageyama started sending articles to all of them, Yamaguchi in turn must have used Kageyama’s phone number for _evil_ and they were definitely going to discuss that later. He had so many responses lined up, each with a different way to diffuse the warmth in his chest because he couldn’t possibly show how much such a small thing meant—

Instead, Tsukishima picked up Kageyama’s hand, tapping his knuckles a couple times before handing him the fork. “Yeah, you know what you’re doing.” 

Kageyama gave him a small smile and Tsukishima was conscious of how their bodies were positioned, how Kageyama faced only him and the wall and there was no possible way to explain away that he was just smiling at _him_ and he felt lightheaded. Kageyama picked up the fork, paused, and moved it back to him. 

“I got this for you,” Kageyama explained. 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, passing the fork back again. “We might as well share, it’s weird if you’re just watching me eat.” 

Kageyama cocked his head slightly. “Seriously? I got this because, you know—” _Because he knew I liked it._

He sighed, but he pointedly speared a piece of cake to bring to his mouth. He thoughtfully hummed, pleased overall when he noticed Kageyama just staring at him. He once would have found it unnerving. Now, he found comfort that no matter the situation, Kageyama was just always going to be his odd self around him. Tsukishima held out the fork, wiggling it for Kageyama to take. Kageyama frowned but did as was bid and gently took a piece for himself. 

“You sure?” Kageyama spoke as if trying not to scare that cat off the ledge and didn’t that say something. 

“You should be grateful,” Tsukishima said, aiming for teasing. “It’s a testament to how much I like you that I’m willing to do this.” He was referring to sharing cake. 

But Kageyama blinked in surprise, lips twitching as if to keep his face straight. “You—yeah, ok.” Tsukishima looked at the crowd for a second because it was strangely intimate eating in front of someone and he had to settle his nerves again. He could feel the brand of heat where Kageyama’s legs brushed against his own. There was no way he could stretch his legs without getting into Kageyama’s space. As if reading his thoughts, Kageyama flexed his right leg enough to hook his ankle around Tsukishima’s own, pulling it slightly toward him. 

For such a prickly person who exuded a sense _feel free to get out of my way already,_ Kageyama was surprisingly physical with him. Mostly small things—taking his arm, touching his knee, a hand slung on his hip—but often enough that Tsukishima took notice. The only other person who may receive that kind of attention was Hinata, but theirs was clearly that of competitive brothers. Kageyama didn’t shove Tsukishima out of the way, he drew him in. He didn’t slap his hand, he laced their fingers. And Kageyama didn’t take from him, he just gave. 

Once Tsukishima started to get out of his own head, conversation flowed more smoothly. Tsukishima knew that a great jumping point was anything volleyball-related—a solid common ground. But inevitably, they strayed toward more varied topics, like the music Tsukishima had listened to while reading the latest article sent or how a certain player reminded Kageyama of a coach he played with as a kid. It was a compilation of small truths, pixels that stood alone as unremarkable but in summation created a richer image of the other. 

When Tsukishima was down to the last dregs of coffee and the plate before them held mere crumbles, he assumed that was a natural petering out of their date. He wasn’t sure whether he was disappointed, though he supposed this wouldn’t be their _only_ date. _Unless Kageyama concluded he wasn’t actually that interested and decided once was enough._

Tsukishima continued to cradle his empty mug, stilted by uncertainty. Kageyama looked down at his mug, then without question took it from him and started levering himself out of their corner. Tsukishima automatically rose in response. 

“I’ll take these back up, wait for me outside,” Kageyama said, then turned and left. Tsukishima was still learning not to take his abrupt nature too seriously. 

He debated waiting inside by the door for him, but the crowd was just thick enough to feel cloying. A niggling part of him still felt uncomfortable when his fair hair and height difference were made startingly apparent in an average crowd; he didn’t enjoy being noticed. He pushed past strangers to fall back outside and it was a sweet, crisp breath he took. With hands jammed back in his pockets, Tsukishima took a brief reprieve to reorder his thoughts. He was in a perpetual state of recalibration, constantly assimilating new information to better inform any given situation. When he spent time with Kageyama, he was processing all the fucking time. 

Tsukishima didn’t have to look behind him when the door opened; no one else would come up and put a hand on his lower back to steer him away. He felt a frisson of nerves, wondering what would be next. The thought of closing a date was almost as bad as anticipating it starting—what were expectations? How, if at all, would it be different than their usual interactions? A few steps away from the café, Kageyama dropped his hand but pressed up against his arm all the same. 

“Where to next?” Tsukishima asked, maintaining a breezy, casual tone. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Kageyama said, then trailed off. “Unless you just want to go home.” Tsukishima appreciated the out, knowing Kageyama wouldn’t have offered if he was genuinely interested in ending it. 

“By all means,” he replied, waving a hand forward. Kageyama batted his hand, then grabbed it to lock their fingers. _Quit it,_ Tsukishima told his fluttering stomach. 

So once again, he allowed himself to be pulled in his wake, a little wary but along for the ride. It didn’t take long for him to realize where they were going, that a bench in a park looked familiar. 

“You know that cat isn’t going to still be there,” Tsukishima said, looking around the park they had visited not long ago. 

Kageyama looked over at the empty ledge anyway and sighed but didn’t seem deterred. He tugged them until they sat on the same bench. It was darker than not, a lamp post close enough to cast a glow but not so brightly it detracted from a sense of privacy. Kageyama still held his hand. Tsukishima worried that his hands were too cold. 

“What brings us back here?” Tsukishima asked, inquisitive but unconcerned. He turned to look at Kageyama, who kept his gaze forward. 

Kageyama cleared his throat. “I want to do it again now that I know what it is.” He wouldn’t look at him. 

It was a baffling response. “I—what?” 

He took a deep breath, then shifted his body to face him. “Our date. The, you know, the other one. The non-date. Show me what you wanted me to see the first time.” 

Tsukishima felt warmth weave through his ribs, surprised by how sweet an answer it was. “I just wanted to spend time with you,” he confessed, not having a better reason. He tilted his head back to look at the stars, feeling too vulnerable. 

Kageyama was quiet. He budged over until they were pressed shoulder to thigh. In his periphery, Tsukishima could see Kageyama look up as well. 

“What’re we looking at?” Kageyama asked. _What are_ we _looking at._

“Just constellations, I guess.” Tsukishima shrugged. Better than looking at a lamp again. 

“Which ones?” 

His eyes traced them over, catching over the common ones like Orion’s Belt and the Ursas. Ones he felt most people could identify. Everyone knew those. 

“Cassiopeia.” It was hard to overlook once someone knew it was there, a little different than usual conversation starters. He hesitated, then guided their joined hands to its location. “It’s the one that zig-zags. Sort of near the Little Dipper. Not a great story but interesting to look at.” 

“Cassiopeia.” Kageyama carefully rolled the word on his tongue. “How do you know that?” 

Tsukishima opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. In the right setting, in the safety of his thoughts, he wanted to relay the majesty of stars. How they held stories reborn from civilizations around the world, how they steered the lost and weary at night, how they were beautiful for their own sake. 

“It’s just useless trivia,” Tsukishima mumbled. He supposed it was. _Just like dinosaurs,_ a traitorous thought whispered. He thought they would leave it at that. 

“I still want to hear what you like about them,” Kageyama murmured instead, as if asking for a secret. 

“Do you?” Tsukishima asked, skeptical. 

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” 

“I don’t know if it’s worth elaborating,” he demurred, lied, assuming Kageyama was only being polite. 

Kageyama huffed. He jabbed him with his elbow, waiting until Tsukishima looked over at him. Kageyama closed his eyes and tilted his head away. “It’s kind of pointless when it’s this dark out and it shouldn’t matter anyway, but I can’t see you, okay? So, you know, let out your secrets. I’m not watching you so I can’t judge how into this you are or whatever.” 

Tsukishima sighed as if put upon, but inwardly was dazed. He should’ve given Kageyama more credit, but a small part of him scratched at his mind, one that still expected it could go wrong. He couldn’t fathom sometimes how they had gone from antagonizing each other, incinerating in seconds, to this simmering edge like sitting by a hearth. They had needed a way to vent excess steam, to quell the worst of it so what was left was mutual understanding. 

Kageyama wanted people to care as much as he did; Tsukishima wanted people to not see how much he cared.

“Well, I suppose part of it goes back to Greek mythology,” Tsukishima tentatively started, waiting for Kageyama to interject—but he didn’t. When Tsukishima didn’t continue, Kageyama hummed the equivalent of _go on._ So he did. He spoke of gods and hubris and cruelty, of Cassiopeia’s counterpart in her neighboring constellation, Cepheus. Tsukishima kept his tone low and quiet. People usually didn’t let him get this far into a story.

“So it’s not a happy ending,” Kageyama concluded. His eyes were closed the entire time. 

“I probably should’ve picked a different one,” Tsukishima admitted, embarrassed. In retrospect, it was probably the least romantic thing he could’ve pointed out, sitting next to a boy who politely wouldn’t look at him. 

“It’s fine. I definitely won’t forget it anytime soon.”

“I know.” He felt a bit miserable at the misstep. He certainly didn’t intend the first time around to have conversation go this way, so he sure as hell didn’t know how it got here the second time. He wasn’t used to a captive audience and look where it got him. Maybe they kept sitting on a cursed bench.

He must have conveyed more than words because Kageyama blinked, focusing on his face. Blue eyes glinted in the light, sparks set against shade. “I mean that I won’t forget it because you told me. If it’s important to you, then—” Kageyama shrugged one shoulder. Tsukishima thought of how Kageyama must have texted Yamaguchi earlier for advice, how Kageyama seemed to have had a plan this whole time and now even _he_ was having a hard time telling himself that Kageyama couldn’t possibly be that interested in him. 

“That’s—thank you.” Tsukishima rubbed at his warm cheek. “I think I get what you’re saying.” 

Kageyama gave a frustrated exhale. “You should—you should _know_ what I’m trying to say.” 

“I do.” _I think._

“No, I don’t think you do.” Kageyama twisted around on the bench, releasing his hand to slide his arm along the back of the bench. Along the back of his shoulders, bracketing him in. All he could see was Kageyama. All he _wanted_ to see was Kageyama. 

“Okay, then what are you saying?” Tsukishima couldn’t decide if he should lean in or away. 

“I’m not good with words, I’m better with—with action. I wish—” He trailed off. 

“I think you’re better with words than you think you are.” Tsukishima voice dropped to a whisper. “What do you wish?”

“There you go again!” Kageyama’s eyes hardened but his voice wavered. 

Tsukishima tried to lean back but Kageyama didn’t loosen his hold. Something pitched low in his stomach. “I don’t follow.” 

“You keep saying these things to me, that I’m smarter than I think I am, that I’m better. No one who really knows who I am has said these things and _meant_ it.”

“People say it all the time,” Tsukishima said quietly. 

“But it’s different with you!” 

“How?” He was beyond confused. 

“Because you used to say things like this before you even liked me, that’d you say them and not care what I thought. But now you say you—you _like_ me and you keep saying them even though you don’t have to.” 

Heat was rolling but he had a sudden clarity of thought. “I think I do need to keep saying them to you. And I’ll keep saying it to you until you believe me.”

_“Why?”_

His realized his earlier doubts may have led to this, that his unwillingness to be open with Kageyama made him uncertain. Tsukishima was afraid of being obvious because it more readily leant itself to rejection, but no matter how times he explicitly said ‘I like you,’ it seemed he wasn’t the only one with fear. That maybe because Kageyama wasn’t confident in his own words, he wasn’t confident in others’ words, too. 

“Because you’re important to me.” It was a simple statement, a truthful one. Moving slowly, telegraphing his movement, Tsukishima skated his thumb along the ridge of Kageyama’s cheekbone, painting a brush a pink. Kageyama’s eyes darkened. “I won’t just say it to you, I’ll also _show_ you if you’ll let me. And not just now, but tomorrow and the next day until you don’t doubt it so much.” He hadn’t realized how much he meant that until he said it aloud. 

Kageyama’s breath shuddered. “Okay, okay. If you feel you have to.” It fell short of teasing, but Tsukishima knew the underlying sentiment. 

Less cautiously now, Tsukishima reached up to cradle Kageyama’s face between his hands, watched how his mouth parted. He thumbed the corner of his mouth, skimmed it across his lower lip. “You okay with this?” 

“Sure.” Kageyama sounded breathy. 

“I want to hear you say ‘yes.’” He needed to hear it or the uncertainty would eat him alive. 

_“Yes,”_ he said, a wisp of breath between them. 

That was all he needed. 

Tsukishima pressed an open mouth to him, caught his lower lip between his own. He tilted his head to match a better angle. Kageyama reached up to push his glasses up and away. He thought he might have heard them clatter behind him, but it was background noise. Kageyama reeled him in by the shoulder until they were nearly chest to chest, Kageyama partly perched on his thigh. He could almost feel the rapid thud of Kageyama’s heart, or perhaps he was acutely aware of his own. 

Kageyama pulled him in, then just as quickly pushed him back. Before Tsukishima could ask what was wrong, Kageyama swung his leg over, straddling his lap. Heat pooled in his belly, pooled lower. He had only felt this way when he was alone, when it was dark and he was half-asleep and daren’t give voice to his thoughts. Kageyama looped both arms around his neck, one hand fisting his hair to pull back his head. Tsukishima dragged his hands down his chest, pressing against muscle and bone as they slid further down to his hips, thumbs digging into their wingtips. He could only gasp when Kageyama’s tongue brushed against his lip, swept into his mouth until all he could breathe was him. 

Tsukishima wasn’t thinking when he slid one hand from his hip to his lower back, then under his sweatshirt until his palm met flesh. Kageyama was impossibly hot to touch. He could feel the shift of hardened muscle, could feel a groan ripple down his chest. His fingers danced up the nobs of his spine, needing him closer and closer and _closer._ Kageyama caught his mouth again, then dragged his lips to his jaw, then down the column of his throat. At first it was a soft kiss, then a kiss with a hint of teeth and Tsukishima made a sound he’d never heard come from himself. Later, he would be embarrassed with himself, but that time wasn’t now. Tsukishima could feel more than hear the growl Kageyama made against him and it was too much and not enough. He was already tilting his head back to give him better access, to give him anything and he could scarcely piece errant thoughts together. He didn’t know he could ever feel like this, that anyone could set him so aflame he was consumed by it. He breathed him in. It wasn’t enough. Tsukishima brought Kageyama’s face back to his own so he could catch his lips again, desperately needing his mouth on him. Kageyama let him, let him sweep his tongue past his lips to skate along the back of his teeth. He could feel the muscles in Kageyama’s abs strain to keep his balance and he wanted that sweatshirt off _now,_ to trace him from neck to navel. He dragged his hand from his back to his chest and he couldn’t breathe and—

Tsukishima moved back an inch, felt it was too encompassing. He both wanted this and was suddenly too conscious of how they were out in the open, that anyone could reasonably walk upon them. He wanted to show Kageyama how much he needed him and wanted him but not like this, not here. This, this part of Kageyama wasn’t something he wanted to share with anyone. This was his. _He_ was his. He broke his mouth away with a gasp, lowering his forehead until it pressed to the junction Kageyama’s shoulder. He could feel Kageyama’s breath pant hot against his hairline but he didn’t move, existing in each other’s space, heartbeats slowing with time. He pressed a soft kiss to skin damp with salt. He slowly unwound his arms until they rested on Kageyama’s jean-clad hips; he was a heavy weight on his thighs but he didn’t want him to move. Kageyama grazed his fingers through his hair, then gave him a gentle pat and it was so silly he found himself smiling. He nuzzled into Kageyama’s hand. He could just make out Kageyama’s heavy gaze, slightly fuzzed and—

“Where are my glasses?” Tsukishima realized they weren’t there. He reached up and only felt Kageyama carding his fingers. 

“They’re—” Kageyama stopped, turning his head this way and that. “Are they on the bench?” 

“Hold on,” he grumbled, twisting around. “I can’t see anything.” 

“You usually can’t see anything,” Kageyama muttered. 

Tsukishima nudged his thighs with his knee, gently urging him to get up. “It’s too dark. Make yourself useful and find them for me.” 

“Oh my god, so bossy.” But Kageyama did as he bid, hoisting himself up and off, then went to his knees to see where they had fallen. “Why do you have black frames, this is ridiculous.” 

“Just look in the grass, how hard is this.” 

“Well fuck you, I’m trying here.” 

“Do _you_ need glasses? Is that the real issue here?”

“Shut up.” Kageyama swatted his ankle. “I found them, but maybe I’ll keep them for myself if you’re gonna give me attitude.” 

“Oh bite me.” 

“I already did,” Kageyama said absently, brushing off his knees when he stood up. 

Tsukishima clicked his tongue to feign annoyance, grateful Kageyama probably couldn’t see the rush of heat to his face. 

“Just, I—you want to walk me home?” He found it unbearable to follow that thought directly. He slid his glasses back on just in time to see Kageyama look exceedingly smug. “Quit looking at me like that.” 

“Quit looking like what?” 

“Like you’re so _pleased_ with yourself.” 

“Maybe I am.” Kageyama allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk. 

“Gross,” he muttered, but it didn’t stop him from taking Kageyama’s hand as they made their trek back to the ever-present fork in the road. Upon arrival, he found himself strangely reluctant to part, even if he would see Kageyama soon for practice. 

“This was nice,” he offered lamely. They had just made out in the park but somehow this made his stomach flutter more. 

“I—yeah, good night.” Kageyama made no step to leave. 

Tsukishima frowned, didn’t know what he was waiting for. “What’s up?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

He felt he was making a mistake but didn’t know how. “Come on, spit it out already.” 

Kageyama hunched his shoulders, glancing at the ground then back up to him. “So I was talking to Yamaguchi—” 

“I _knew it!”_

“Shut up. I was talking to him and he said he wanted—that he wanted—” Kageyama trailed off, looking as shy as he’d ever seen him. “He said he wanted a photo to commemorate this.” 

Tsukishima felt embarrassed enough for the both of them. He definitely was going to talk to his best friend about this later. “He’s the worst. Just because he asked you for something doesn’t mean you have to humor him.” 

“But what if I want to?” Kageyama said it so quietly and with a hint of hope that Tsukishima couldn’t imagine actually saying no to him. 

He couldn’t believe these were the two boys he’d made room for in his life. “Fine. Whatever. Just be quick about it.” 

Kageyama nodded, fishing his phone out of his pocket and invading Tsukishima’s space. He held up his phone to take a selfie, but Tsukishima could see they both looked stoic and impassive. 

“Well this will be a hell of a photo,” Tsukishima said deadpan. 

“You’re the worst,” Kageyama replied, punctuating his point with a hard poke to the ribs. 

Tsukishima couldn’t remember the last time he hated himself as much as the moment when Kageyama poked him and he squeaked. 

Kageyama whipped his head to look at him. “Are you ticklish?” 

“No.” 

“You are.” 

“I said no.” 

“You _are.”_

“Ok I’m going now.” Tsukishima could fry an egg on his face it was so hot. 

“No wait, hold on,” Kageyama said in a rush, holding the phone back up, raking his hands down Tsukishima’s side and he was laughing despite himself. Kageyama lowered the phone, looking down at it with a pleased smile. 

“You’re such a loser.”

“But I’m _your_ loser.” That smug look was back again. 

He wanted to deny it but flashed back to earlier. “Yeah, you are.” 

“Well. Good night.” Kageyama hesitated, then leaned up to peck a chaste kiss on the lips. He quickly turned around and left, hands in his jean pockets. Tsukishima touched his fingers with his lips. He stared at Kageyama walking away for a couple beats before leaving for his own house. 

The whole night had been surreal. It didn’t go the way he planned but perhaps it went the way he’d hoped. He was almost to his front gate when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He opened a text from Kageyama and just stared at it, unblinking. 

It was the photo they’d taken. Tsukishima was caught mid-laugh and Kageyama looked so delighted. He would be more embarrassed if he also wasn’t, perhaps, swooning just the slighted bit. 

Below the picture three dots appeared in a bubble, then nothing, then a new bubble with dots. Then nothing. Tsukishima stood at the gate, refusing to go until Kageyama made up his mind. 

_> > Look at how much of a nerd my boyfriend is_

_Boyfriend._ And if that didn’t kick Tsukishima in the chest he didn’t know what would. 

He could remember finally walking through the front door, up the stairs, past Akiteru’s closed door. He made it to his room and quickly _snicked_ the door shut, practically flinging himself on his bed. He couldn’t stop staring at the photo, the open laugh on his face, the look on Kageyama’s. He wanted to burn the image in his brain, to show proof later that it wasn’t some sort of fever dream. He needed to know it was real. 

He continued to lay there, indecisive and stupidly nervous, but he knew he had to respond before going to bed. 

_< < I don’t know, he looks way cooler than that other guy._

_> > That other guy is offended_

He waffled some more.

_< < I guess it’s a good thing that nerd likes his boyfriend so much._

He hit send, then threw his phone at his pillow. It was too sappy and he immediately regretted it. He wasn’t that person. 

Except maybe he was. 

His phone pinged again. With a groan, he reluctantly reached out to bring it back to him. 

_> > That other guy’s happy too_. 

Tsukishima threw his phone away again. Then took it back again. He wanted to mindlessly scroll through something, anything, to quell his nerves when he saw an unread message from Yamaguchi. _Yamaguchi._ What a traitorous best friend. He still opened it. 

_> > Good luck! I believe in you!_

_Oh. That’s why we’re best friends._

Indecision gnawed at him. Trying not to overthink it, he copied Kageyama’s photo to their thread, then pressed send. Before he could second guess himself—

_< < My boyfriend, I guess._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking time to read another indulgence of mine!


End file.
